Same Time Next Year

Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended

Timeline: Ninth in a series. Takes place in November, 1977, a few months after the conclusion of the series in the Canadian episodes. It is strongly recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read the previous stories in the arc: Lost Boys, Anew, Aftermath, Dance With Me, The Anniversary, Merry Christmas, Mr. Gambit, Brazil, Life on Mars, and 'Til Death.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

Gambit lay wide awake in the dark, motionless, debating whether he dared to move. After the sort of protracted back-and-forth he might engage in with Purdey on a day when they were feeling particularly energetic, he decided to risk it. He carefully lifted his arms so he could find the watch face on the inside of his wrist, touched the small button that illuminated it. It was 5:23 am, and Gambit knew very well that the meeting with McKay wasn't until 8:30. With three hours to go, Gambit knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, not with the strictest of deadlines hanging over his head. He turned his head slightly to look at Purdey, but she was lying on her side and turned away from him, so he couldn't make out whether she was awake or not. He didn't really want to wake her, but if he wasn't going to go back to sleep, he was going to need to move sometime in the next three hours. He worked his jaw slightly, gauging whether he could get to the guest bedroom without rousing her, but Purdey had one of her legs bent and draped on top of his, and he'd have to shift it to get up. He sighed, immediately regretted making a noise, then decided, just as quickly, to throw caution to the winds and try asking her if she was awake. If she didn't respond, then she was in such a deep sleep that he could do just about anything without disturbing her, including go to the loo, which was steadily becoming the item on his itinerary in need of the most urgent attention. "Purdey," he whispered, as softly as possible while still being audible. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," came the very alert reply, too clear to be made by someone who'd only just been roused from sleep. "Are you?"

"How could I ask you if you were asleep if I was asleep?" Gambit pointed out, with just a touch of exasperation.

"I don't know," Purdey admitted, rolling over so she could face him. "Perhaps you were sleep-talking."

"Sleep-talking?" Gambit repeated sceptically. "To the point of carrying on a whole conversation?"

Purdey shrugged and he could see she was smiling her bright, guileless smile in the dim light. "Perhaps you have heretofore unknown talents," she suggested.

"I do not sleep-talk," Gambit declared.

"If you say so," Purdey said blithely. "But you do snore."

Gambit knew better than to contradict her on that front. "Sometimes," he qualified.

"Only sometimes?"

Gambit pulled a face, suddenly regretting his decision to ask if she was awake. "Are you going back to sleep?" he queried hopefully, for reasons that went beyond Purdey's need for her beauty sleep.

Purdey squeezed her eyes shut as though dreading the answer before she'd even vocalised her question. "What time is it?"

"About half past five."

"Then I don't think so," Purdey admitted with a sigh, eyes popping open and looking much more haunted than they had a moment before. "Are you?"

"Probably not."

Purdey sat up and switched on the lamp on the bedside table, then laid back down beside him. "Well, as we're both here, and awake, we may as well talk about what happened at the warehouse."

Gambit frowned a little in confusion. Even after lying away for the better part of half an hour, he still wasn't at his best early in the morning. "A lot happened at the warehouse. You'll have to be more specific."

"Mike Gambit!" Purdey exclaimed, obviously exasperated, and this time with good reason. "Did you honestly think that I'd forget all about the small fact that you asked me to marry you?"

Gambit winced visibly as his earlier impetuousness came crashing back. "Right. That."

"Yes. That." Purdey was incredulous, and mildly offended. "You did think I was going to forget about it! Kendrick was wrong for once. You must have hit your head. No even you could be so blindingly stupid as to forget something that significant."

"I didn't forget," Gambit protested, scrubbing his face with his hands. "There was so much going on, I thought it got lost in the shuffle."

"And the impression you were trying to achieve was one of utter forgetability?" Purdey said, tone a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "Most men plan out a proposal," she went on, as though this would be news to Gambit. "Dinner, candlelight, romantic atmosphere. They get down on one knee and offer up a ring. All the clichés. But you and your timing, Mike Gambit, leave something to be desired. Or was it always your intention to ask me to marry you before you went to potentially meet your doom?" Purdey spoke without malice, but with a certain amount of well-earned frustration. "It was an awful lot to drop on a girl under the circumstances."

"I know, I know," Gambit sighed, self-chastisement written all over his face. "I didn't plan it," he added, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. "It just sort of came out."

Purdey snorted. "That much was obvious."

"I didn't know what was going to happen when I went in, or if I was going to come out again," he confessed, trying to ignore the way Purdey's face crumpled slightly at the admission. "And if worst came to worst, and I didn't make it out again, I wanted to know if there was a chance-if we could have had a life together, even if we never got to live it."

"And what did you expect me to say?" Purdey wanted to know, fists clenching instinctively. "Did you honestly expect me to turn you down right before you went in to face off against Vanessa Thyme? And risk giving you a reason to give in and let her kill you?"

"I know it wasn't fair," Gambit admitted, expression the picture of self-recrimination. "But I just needed something to hold onto. It didn't really matter if you meant it or not. It was just…hope, for something that could be, just to see me through to the other end, or make it…easier if it all went pear-shaped." He gifted her with a shaky smile. "If it helps, I was never going to hold you to it. You can't make a decision about something like that on the spot. Not an informed one, anyway. It was a moment of madness, and I thought you'd realise that." He looked worried suddenly. "You know I wouldn't try to force you into keeping a promise like that? I might have been desperate, but I'd never be desperate enough to stoop to emotional blackmail."

Despite her frustration, Purdey took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "I know you wouldn't do that," she said softly, putting his mind at ease. "And anyway, I was the one who asked if you were really asking, not posing a hypothetical, so I suppose I share some of the blame. But as you haven't mentioned it since…" She looked down at his hand in hers. "I know you're not going to hold me to it, but does that mean you didn't mean it?"

Gambit opened his mouth to reply, then seemed to freeze. "I…" he began. "I never got that far. I thought, I mean, given the circumstances and how your last engagement turned out, I thought you'd be happy to forget about it as soon as things settled down."

"Yes, well, let's say I wasn't," Purdey conjectured, eyeing him curiously. "Did you mean it when you proposed, regardless of whether you thought my answer was cast in stone?"

Gambit grinned slightly. "I have to be careful," he said with a little laugh. "Otherwise you'll catch me up. But let's put it this way. I've always wanted to ask you. To be honest, I think I could've asked you the day Steed introduced us and I saw you walk in the door, if I knew you wouldn't run screaming in the opposite direction. I knew you were the only girl for me. It's just been a matter of whether I ever got the chance. So yes, I want to marry you. But the question is, do you want to marry me?"

Purdey looked away for a moment, and Gambit wondered if he'd well and truly scared her off this time. He wished fervently that he'd kept his mouth shut back at the warehouse, no matter how frightened he'd been. His desperate need for a reason to cling to life didn't matter a jot if he lost her in the end, especially since he really hadn't meant to pressure her.

But when Purdey turned back to him, she was smiling a strange little smile. Strange, but good strange. "Do you know something? After my last engagement ended so badly, I couldn't imagine ever getting engaged again, let alone married. I don't think I quite realised what I wanted from marriage, or understood what it could be, or rather should be." She tilted her head and looked at him, really looked. "And then I met you, and for the first time I knew what it was like to have a partner. A real partner, in every sense of the word. And I realised that that's what marriage is meant to be. A partnership." She shifted closer to him on the mattress. "And you, Mike Gambit, are my partner, in every single way. The only one I've ever had, and ever want. And I want everything that goes with it. So yes, Mike Gambit. I want to marry you. I want to be your partner in every way I possibly can, including as your wife."

Gambit blinked, pleasantly poleaxed, regarding her with a mixture of joy and astonishment. Purdey watched, with no small amusement, as he fumbled for the words that would communicate the vast wealth of emotions her statement had stirred inside him. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he managed to choke out, "I'm not trying to be slow on the uptake, but to be clear, you're saying you want to marry me now, not at some undetermined point, eventually, in the future?"

Purdey burst out laughing, the ludicrousness of the conversation finally getting to her. "Yes, Mike Gambit, I'm saying I'd like to marry you sooner rather than later. I really have made you afraid to assume anything, haven't I?"

"You should never assume where a girl is concerned, and definitely not in a situation like this, with a girl like you." He dipped his head shrink the gap between his mouth and hers, noses almost touching. "And you're a very special kind of girl, Purdey."

"The kind you might ask to marry you?" she quipped.

"The kind who says yes," Gambit murmured back, then raised an eyebrow. "Have you said yes? I've lost track."

Purdey laughed uproariously at the absurdity of it all, in spite of the tears pricking in her eyes. "Why don't you ask me properly, Mike Gambit, and find out?"

Gambit looked down at his sheet draped body. "I'm not exactly dressed for getting down on one knee."

Purdey's gaze lingered on his bare chest. "Oh, I don't know," she said, eyes twinkling. "But I'm not fussy. You don't have to observe the formalities."

Gambit swallowed hard, took her hand in both of his own, which were shaking with emotion. "Purdey," he said levelly, with a voice that he managed to keep from trembling as much as his hands by sheer force of will. He considered briefly whether to preface his query with a long speech about what she meant to him, but then realised that they were past mere words. Their actions over the past two years had spoken volumes, certainly more than could ever be collapsed into one short speech. So Gambit settled instead for looking into the eyes of the woman he loved more than anything in the world, and spoke the four words that circumstances had ensured he hadn't been able to say in quite the right way that day in front of the warehouse. "Will you marry me?"

Purdey's blue eyes were full of unshed tears, but they were smiling. She leaned in close, very close, lips brushing his, keeping him in suspense. "Mike Gambit," she murmured, "the only thing I have to say to you is 'yes'."

Gambit felt his own tears of joy break the carefully constructed barrier that had been keeping them at bay, and he let them flow as he lent in to kiss her, with all the pent-up love and devotion that he vowed to lavish on her for the rest of their days. "Are you satisfied with that answer?" Purdey asked when she broke away briefly, stroking his cheek. "Do you believe me this time?"

"I'm not sure," Gambit teased, eyes glittering. "I might have to confirm."

Purdey laughed softly. "Well, get on with it, Mike Gambit. We have a meeting to prepare for."

Gambit wasted no time, giddy now, punch-drunk with love. "Will you marry me?" he repeated, punctuating the question with kisses.

"Yes." Kiss.

"Will you marry me?" Kiss.

"Yes." Kiss.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes." Purdey was really laughing now at the absurdity of it all, shaking in his arms. "Would you like me to put it in writing?"

Gambit shrugged and treated her to an endearingly boyish grin. "It might help."

Purdey threw back her head and laughed even harder. "Mike Gambit, one of these days..."

"Is today, apparently," Gambit finished, almost dreamily, as he tenderly traced the line of her jaw. "Oh, Purdey, Purdey, you have no idea how happy I am."

"I have some idea," Purdey said crisply, tapping the bump of his broken nose with affection. "Assuming it's about as happy you've made me."

"I think we're on the same page," Gambit murmured, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Whatever happens today, they can't take this away from us."

"No, they can't," Purdey agreed wistfully, indulging herself by running her thumb appreciatively over his full bottom lip. "But before we face the music, I'd like you to do something."

Gambit kissed her hands. "Anything."

"Would you hold me?" Purdey requested quietly, softening as reality set in, pulling her off of her euphoric cloud. "Until we have to get ready?"

"Purdey." Gambit wrapped his arms around her and settled back onto the bed. "That's something you never have to ask twice."

vvv

Purdey emerged from the bathroom, hair and makeup done, figure draped in the yellow silk kimono she often wore when she was in the midst of getting ready. She floated over to the closet, the click of her heels muted by Gambit's plush carpet. Gambit looked up from buttoning his shirt as Purdey flung open the doors and started flicking through the clothes on offer. "I never thought to ask whether you had anything to wear here at my flat that was suitable for being put on trial," he observed worriedly, as Purdey rummaged through the contents.

"I brought something from mine two days ago," Purdey informed, retrieving a dress from inside the closet. "And don't be overdramatic. We're not on trial."

"Not officially," Gambit opined, tucking his shirt into his black pinstriped trousers. "But just because McKay doesn't have a wig and a robe doesn't mean we're not being sentenced. Or court martialled."

"Really, Gambit," Purdey tsked, carrying her dress into the living area where she could spread it out on the still-retracted bed. "With all that negative thinking, I'm amazed you've survived this long."

"It's because I think this way that I've survived this long," Gambit pointed out mildly, drifting in her wake, fastening his cuffs as he went. He peered over her shoulder for a better look at Purdey's dress. "I don't remember you bringing that in."

"If you hadn't been so engrossed in typing your report, you might have put those observational skills you're so proud of to good use," Purdey chastised, undoing the sash around her waist and smoothly slipping the kimono from her shoulders.

Gambit's gaze transferred instantly from the dress to her at the rustle of silk, and his eyebrows climbed in surprise. "Must have been distracted. I can't imagine why."

"You seem to be focussing perfectly well now," Purdey observed, tongue-in-cheek, bending to take her dress off the hanger with the sinuous grace of the dancer she was, though Gambit could tell that there was something about the way she was moving that was not entirely innocent. There might not have been a stage available, but she was most definitely putting on a performance for a very appreciative audience of one.

"It helps if I'm motivated," Gambit murmured, eyes roving appreciatively over Purdey's figure as she unzipped the garment. "You shouldn't do things like that without warning. You could kill a man."

"Then at least you'd die happy," Purdey quipped, stepping into the dress and starting to pull it on. "How do you feel about your report?"

Bubble burst, Gambit's face collapsed in a frown, and he moved wearily to retrieve the tie draped over one of his bar stools. "It's as good as it'll ever be. Or at least it ought to be. I rewrote it five times." He looped the cloth around his neck and started to tie it automatically. "But I think we have all our ducks in a row." He sighed and smoothed the tie down. "I'm more worried about this meeting."

"So you keep saying." Purdey slid her arms through the sleeves of her dress and engaged in some mild contortionism to zip up the back. "If you keep going on like this, you'll make me more nervous than I already am."

"Sorry," Gambit apologised, smiling sheepishly at her as she turned to face him. The dress was knee-length and black, with three-quarter length tight-fitting sleeves, and an off the shoulder neckline achieved by folding the hem of the collar over itself. The bodice nipped in at the waist before flaring out to create a full skirt, evoking the ideal combination of femininity and businesslike professionalism. Purdey smoothed her skirt before throwing her arms open and twirling dramatically, as though she were a model presenting herself at the end of a catwalk.

"How do I look?" she inquired.

Gambit's lips curled upwards in an admiring smile. "Beautiful. As always."

Purdey's mouth twitched into a pleased expression of her own. "Flatterer. But I hope you don't plan on making those sorts of comments in front of McKay."

"Give me a little credit," Gambit defended. "But you did ask."

"I did." Purdey's eyes were twinkling in a way that told him she knew she was being difficult. Then she cleared her throat. "Right," she said briskly.

"Right," Gambit echoed, snagging his suit jacket from a nearby statue, and shrugging it on. Moving in perfect synchronicity, Gambit shot his cuffs while Purdey smoothed her sleeves of wrinkles, a sublimated girding of the loins to prepare them both for battle. Purdey finished first and closed the distance between them just in time to catch both halves of Gambit's suit jacket and draw them together, doing up the button as she went. Task complete, she slid her hands up to Gambit's lapels, smoothing them to perfection, before straightening his tie and tugging ever-so-slightly on the shoulders of his jacket to make sure the garment was hanging perfectly on his frame. "There," she pronounced, looking him over with approval. "You look ready for anything. Unimpeachably professional."

Gambit arched an eyebrow. "Unimpeachable?"

"Unimpeachable," Purdey repeated, grinning madly.

"Does that let out a kiss for luck?" Gambit was looking at her with shining eyes, and Purdey felt herself melt inside.

"Under the circumstances, I'm not sure how lucky a kiss would be," she pointed out, voice wavering slightly.

"Then we'll keep it chaste." Gambit leaned down and pressed his lips gently to her forehead through her fringe. Purdey closed her eyes as she felt the warmth of him against her skin, fought back the tears that would reduce her recently-applied make-up to smudges, but couldn't resist the urge to wrap her arms tightly around him. "Whatever happens," Gambit murmured into her hair, one hand gently cupping the back of her head, "I'll still love you, and we'll get through it.'

"Mike Gambit," Purdey managed, taking a shaky breath. "Sometimes you really can read my mind. Let's go."

vvv

They each took their own car to the Ministry, for optics if nothing else. There was little they could do about the other realities of their relationship, but they could at least avoid the appearance of commuting like a married couple who happened to work in the same office building.

Gambit saw the turn signal on Purdey's TR7 wink ahead of him, and grunted a little as he cranked the XJS' wheel to follow her, his side protesting at being made to stretch and twist in the confines of the car's cab. He hadn't driven since he'd been stabbed, but he was quickly reminded of just how inconvenient side injuries were when it came to everyday tasks like driving. He was healing up nicely as per usual, but that didn't mean things weren't still tender. No matter how many injuries he incurred, and how often he told himself and everyone else that he was fine, reality always liked to step in and make itself known. Then again, if Purdey hadn't been sensible and made him halt his amorous advances the night before, he would've wound up a lot sorer. Gambit left off babying his wound and grinned ruefully. Somehow he thought it would have been worth it, never mind the physical cost.

Purdey stopped at a light, and Gambit pulled up behind her. He could just catch a glimpse of Purdey's big blue eyes looking at him in the rear-view mirror, and he executed a cheeky salute. Despite not being able to see her mouth, he could tell from the crinkle of her eyes that she was smiling. As he watched, she tilted the mirror to reveal her lips and blew him a kiss, before returning it to its original position. Gambit's heart beat a little faster at the gesture, but he had no qualms about feeling like a lovesick teenager. He was lovesick, had fallen hard for Purdey, and still couldn't quite believe that they'd made the transition to lovers. No, she was his fiancée, he reminded himself. That would take awhile to sink in, the reality that Purdey, despite that original spur-of-the-moment first proposal, followed by another, more sane, still not completely orthodox one (or more than one) wanted to be his wife. It was all he could have asked for, all he wanted. It somehow made the prospect of meeting McKay less daunting. No matter what happened, he had someone to love, and someone who loved him, and that was more than he could have ever asked for in this or any life. The job paled in comparison. Gambit had always managed to find employment one way or another, and, Purdey's gentle teasing to the contrary, his resume was far more impressive now than it had been when he'd come out of the navy at 21 with an unfinished education and only his service record to speak in his favour. He'd found something to do then and he would again. But in all his travels around the globe, all his exploits and many and varied career changes, he'd never found anyone like Purdey.

Purdey was pulling up to the security gate, and he saw her hand stick out of the driver's side door, clutching her pass. There was a brief interlude while the guard checked her credentials, and Gambit knew Purdey would be chatting cheerfully with the man as he did so. Purdey could charm most people if she put her mind to it. It was one of her many invaluable qualities as an agent, and an equally valuable tool in everyday life. It was hard to hate Purdey if she didn't want you to.

The guard let Purdey through, and it was Gambit's turn to say hello and exchange pleasantries. The guard nodded in greeting and reviewed Gambit's credentials with studied indifference, but Gambit could sense the underlying current of wariness, if not suspicion, in the man's demeanour. Gambit got the definite sense that the man had one eye on him and the other on his ID, gauging Gambit's expression and body language. Even the security staff would have been told about Gambit's fugitive status and connections to Vanessa Thyme, part of the general alert sent out to all operatives to keep a lookout lest he try to access the building. Gambit gave the man one of his lightning quick smiles in thanks when he handed the card back, and pulled through the gate with what he hoped wasn't unseemly haste. Gambit knew he was in for a lot of stares the second he set foot in the Ministry building, but that didn't mean he wanted to sit around and be gawked at before he even got out of his car.

Purdey was waiting for him when he pulled into the car park, perched on the bonnet of her TR7 with one leg bent and her thumbnail pressed to her lips, looking for all the world like she was doing nothing more than taking the early morning air. Gambit pulled into an empty spot beside her, alighted from his XJS and rounded the gleaming red bonnet to join her. Her hair was tousled slightly by the breeze, and for a moment Gambit wished that they weren't at the Ministry, but in a field, full of flowers, in the middle of nowhere. They could while away the day in the sun, maybe have a picnic. But there was no time for any of that. No field. No picnic. Just the asphalt beneath his boots and the sombre black of their business attire, the ID clipped to the neckline of Purdey's dress a sober reminder of institutionalism and bureaucracy, of dreaded meetings and whispered rumours. He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Are you ready?" he asked of Purdey, knowing that it hardly mattered. McKay wouldn't permit them to be late.

Purdey treated him to a small shrug of one elegant shoulder, smiling winningly. "Like the man said, 'as I'll ever be.'"

Gambit smiled a little, Purdey's natural buoyancy in the face of all comers offsetting his deep-set pessimism. "Let's go, then. Shouldn't keep the gawkers waiting."

Purdey picked up the file sitting next to her on the bonnet and slid off with her usual balletic grace. "You flatter yourself, Mike Gambit. Not everyone in the Ministry is waiting for you with bated breath."

It was an optimistic pronouncement, and also wrong. The instant they stepped inside to check in with security, they could feel the eyes on them. They queued up behind others filing in for their daily shift who were all feigning indifference, but Gambit could sense the tension in every person in the vicinity. He chanced a quick glance at Purdey, standing in front of him, head held defiantly high, and felt for her. She didn't care about what anyone thought, Gambit knew, but he was still sorry she'd had to reveal they were sleeping together during the whole grim ordeal, a secret that she'd wanted to keep as long as possible for the sake of her own privacy. Gambit didn't care a jot what they thought of him, but his instinct to protect Purdey was always strong, and he bit down hard on the urge to tell the people in the immediate vicinity to leave her the hell alone and keep their eyes to themselves. But that would only make things worse, and anyway, Purdey could fight her own battles. He just wished she didn't have to fight them because of him.

They cleared security, and then began the long walk down the corridor to the lift, shoulder to shoulder, dressed in matching black, reports under their arms, staring straight ahead, determined not to giving the people watching them anything to talk about. Gambit had mastered impassiveness long ago, could draw on his martial arts training to keep his emotions at bay and his expression impassive, but he couldn't deny the wash of relief he felt when they entered the lift and the doors closed, sealing them in their own private antechamber for a few precious seconds. He let out a long breath through his nose that he didn't realise he'd been holding. Beside him, he sensed Purdey giving him the side-eye.

"We still have another corridor to go," she said softly, telling him to brace himself. Gambit knew they weren't out of the woods yet, but all the same, Purdey giving him marching orders snapped him back into line. He had to do this right. For her.

The lift doors slid open, and they stepped out into another corridor, another seemingly-endless walk with them on display for all to see and gossip about. Gambit kept his eyes dead ahead, felt more than saw Purdey moving effortlessly at his side, still defiant, still holding her head high. The rumour mill was definitely going to go into overdrive, seeing them together, knowing what he'd done and she'd done and they'd done. Gambit knew he was going to be brushing off countless veiled questions about his loyalty, and even more about Purdey. Gambit only hoped they'd keep them decent and not descend into vulgarity. If he started getting lewd questions about Purdey, it wouldn't matter if McKay kept him on or not—he'd be booted out for breaking the nose of one of his fellow agents, and that was if he was in a good mood.

Seconds later—centuries—they arrived at McKay's door. They exchanged glances, neither keen to push aside the wood and glass barrier, even if it would protect them from the prying eyes in the corridor. "After you," Purdey offered, giving up a lady's prerogative for reasons that had nothing to do with equality between the sexes.

"Oh, no, after you," Gambit returned, small smile tugging at his lips in spite of himself.

Purdey's own mouth stretched toward a smile. "All right, Mike Gambit. We'll go together."

"If we're lucky," Gambit murmured, not bothering to hide the affection for her shining through his eyes. She didn't say a word, only nodded, and turned to the door, shoulders squared, ready for battle.

As one, they reached up and knocked on the door, tapping a neat tattoo between them. "Yes, come in," came the muffled summons, and Purdey and Gambit each opened one of the double doors and stepped into the breach.